I'm going to like dedicate this to Serendipityrain711, she's helped me out with Oh, Kyle, and this one- she's so great! So yes, thanks bbg :*

Also, Denbigh University doesn't exist. I made it up for creative things, because I don't know the lay-out of any top-rated arts college.

Okay, enjoy!

"And second place goes to...Kyle Broflovski!" My family cheers loudly and proudly, and I walk up to receive my red medal, and a sense of dread lies in the pit of my stomach. The means first place goes to...

"And first place goes to Eric Cartman!" The fat bastard practically runs to get his award. Everyone is cheering- a standing ovation. Can someone tell me how a fucking squirrel shitting with a black and white filter worthy of first place?

The fat fuck shoots me a smug grin, like he knew this was how the competition would work out.

Later, when I'm getting pictures with the principal and the president of the national artists society, Cartman is surrounded by tons of cameras and microphones and...screaming hipster girls?

"So, Eric, how does it feel to have 8 consecutive wins in national competitions like these?"

"Well, ya know, I just looove photography. I actually started taking pictures in fourth grade, and I just became addicted. I got a professional camera in fifth grade and I took pictures of everything. I guess it's in my blood, and I care less about the competitions, and more about the fact my art has touched so many."

How gay.

When he asks for a little space, and they back off, the fat-ass approaches me, a gloating look on his face.

"Hello, Kahl." Ugh, his voice is dripping with some sort of sick excitement at winning again.

"Cartman."

"Good job." He leans in to hug me. I'm apprehensive, but some photographer comes up and asks to take a picture of us hugging. Sighing heavily, I give in. As he rubbed my back, he whispered into my ear: "How's it feel to be second best?"

Pretty Goddamn awful, thanks.

After the very long, very drawn out ceremony, it's time for the ceremonial dinner. Before we can eat, Cartman needs to give some gay speech for winning. Before he gets up, he shoots me an ugly grin and walks to the stage.

I mean, he's attractive. Short chestnut brown hair that covers his forehead, he has to flip his hair to get it to stay, and every time he does that, I melt inside. Dark brown eyes the color of chocolate, and as much as I'd like to eat them (Yes, his eyes), I'm a diabetic. His smiles send me into a diabetic coma alone. He's a little pudgy, but I couldn't see him any other way. He was over a foot taller than me, and extremely talented. A worthy adversary, indeed.

"Hello, all. When I was in fourth grade, I absolutely loved photography. And that hasn't change. Here I am, senior year of high school, eight consecutive wins in 4 different national competitions. I have over $35,000 in scholarship money. At this rate, it's not even fair." People laughed. I chewed on my "Kosher Pasta Salad" methodically. "Anyway, I'd just like to thank all of you for being here. Enjoy your dinner." He smiled and waved while the entire ballroom cheered for that fucking prick.

Him and his mother were seated next to my brother, mother, and father, since we were the winners of the competition. There's some blonde kid who stares at Cartman the entire time he eats. He's with his parents, and they aren't letting him eat more than one plate. He's quiet, but in a nice way- not creepy looking. He seemed like a polite boy, although a little nervous.

"So, Mehm?" The fat-ass turned to his mom.

"Yes, snookums?"

"I wuuuhhhhhhhnnnnnnn." Instead of looking at her, he turned and glared at me with a sick gleam.

I hate this motherfucker.

I've never won a national competition- it's always been Cartman, or this other kid named Leop-whatever. I always come in second,but that hasn't stopped the colleges from requesting me to go to their schools. I have institutions knocking my door down just for me to look at their college. I was planning on going to Denbigh University, the top-rated arts college in the world.

"So...Liane, is it? Where's your son going to go? For University, I mean." My mom asked, eager for any sort of gossip ever.

"Yes, it's Liane. Well, my snookiwookums has been asked by hundreds of Universities to attend theirs. More often than not, it's a full-ride scholarship. He hasn't decided yet. Where's Kyle going?"

"My bubbe is going to Denbigh University. The top rated arts college in the world." She smiled triumphantly. But what she didn't tell them was that I didn't get a full-ride.

"Oh, Eric got a request to attend there. Full-ride." She smiled. I almost snapped my fork in half. "But he discarded that one. He's also a national first-place winner in debate. I think he wants to tackle debate more and study...?" She looked towards her son.

"Law, mahm. Law."

"Right. Law."

My mom perked up at the word 'law'. "My bubbe was supposed to study law," she squeezed my knee- "But, he just had to do photography. And the wholesome people we are, we let him follow his dreams."

"That's what living's about." Liane smiled. She was beautiful, but the way she was eyeing my father made me a wee bit uncomfortable.

As I was sipping ginger ale (Yes, don't make fun of the fact that I'm a ginger), I realized I had to piss. Really bad. I excused myself and tried to find the bathroom. But soon, I became lost- why is this place so fucking big? As I wondered down an empty, dark hall, I heard footsteps behind me.

"The bathroom's on the other side of the building, Kahl."

Kahl.

"Yeah, I knew that."

"Sure..."

I turned red. "I did know, okay?! Maybe I wanted to talk a walk?! Look at the art?"

"Dude, you said you had to piss. And look at how you're walking. You're nearly wetting yourself." He snorted.

I sighed. "Alright, Cartman, where is it?"

"Beg."

"No! I'm not begging for you to tell me where the bathroom is!"

"Then you can piss your pants."

"Ugh. Fine. Cartman, will you please tell me where the bathroom is?"

"Grovel." He purred, those warm brown rocks staring into my very own ice green. Fire and Ice.

"Cartman, I need to piss. Please, Cartman. I'm begging you."

"Fine." He grabbed my hand. Oh Moses, his hands are so soft and warm. He led me literally across the building to the fanciest bathroom I've ever seen. Instead of stalls, there were literally bathrooms, minus the sink, which was actually positioned like a regular bathroom. There were chocolates in here, and lotion too?! Who the hell needs lotion in a public restroom?! I shrugged and walked over to one of the urinals.

Cartman was standing near the sink, staring at his face in the mirror. He was so conceited.

I finished, so I walked to the door, but a think green button-down shirt(ed) sleeve stopped me.

"Kahl. You're not leaving."

I blinked. "Why exactly?"

"You didn't wash your hands, Kahl."

I'm so glad he's not going to my University next year- I'm glad the only time I've ever seen him was at these awards. I'd probably hate him more than I already do.

I huff angrily and move to scrub my hands clean of dirt. After I'm finished, I look up to see a grinning Cartman.

"I was always right." He smiled wider.

I scrunched my brow in frustration. "How?"

"Gingers are dirty. Jews are dirty."

"Gingers, nor are Jews dirty, Cartman."

"You didn't wash your hands, you dirty Ginger Jew-rat."

"Dammit!" I stomped out of the bathroom, arms crossed.

The rest of the night, the fat-ass smiled at me and kicked my knock-kneed legs while our parents chatted about whos kid was the best. Cartman was better than me, but no one can trump Ike Broflovski. He was just about the smartest dude in my state, and at 14, is going to Harvard University. He's studying law, just like Cartman will be. They're chattering about subpeon-whatevers while I stare at my phone, waiting for a text from anyone.

"So...Liane, where do you two live?"

"We live in Kelseyville. In California? How about you?" She winked at my dad while she sucked her spaghetti.

"Oh, we've always wanted to go there!"

"It's beautiful" Cartman interjects. "Great place to take pictures."

My mom smiles. "South Park is great for pictures too. Beautiful snow and mountains."

"Then why hasn't Kyle won first place?"

Everyone drops their forks, which clatter loudly on the porcelain plates.

"ERIC!" Liane glares at her son, her face turning red.

"Ky-ull, we're leaving." My mom grabs my hand and drags me out, my father and younger brother trailing behind me.

Fuck that guy, seriously.

How was the first chapter, guys?! I'm passionate about this!

Peace,

Zaki-Chan~